


who?

by mirocthound



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Sexual Assault, I’m sorry :(, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, if you really look into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 03:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21367555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirocthound/pseuds/mirocthound
Summary: if they were to disappear, who would chase? they already knew the answer, and yet they asked themself the question anyways.
Kudos: 21





	who?

**Author's Note:**

> :/ just me venting and banging out some thoughts and feelings through bloodhound because I project on them so much. Whoops

They didn’t feel much of anything anymore, when they really thought about it. And they hadn’t felt anything for a  while, if they wanted to take it that far

They were Bloodhound, the vicious champion of the ring. But when they weren’t out there... who were they?

It’s not as if they had much of an identity outside the ring... outside the mask. It’s all they were ever seen as, it’s all they ever were. Even since before they joined the games, their name was only spoken as a hush, with dark intentions that followed. They were a hunter. They were a beast. Myths and rumors about who, or  what they could possibly be seemed to come from all angles at all times, until they really couldn’t even tell which ones were the truth and which ones were lies.

it had been a long time since they felt anything, a long time since they held any sense of identity since before the mask. 

a lifetime ago, maybe. Those memories felt so far ago, so detached, that it was like looking into someone else’s life from a different set of eyes. Back in their youth, running as a young, curious creature— barefoot by fire, barefoot by snow. So enthralled with nature, with the world, with everything that life itself had to offer.

now, they felt life had nothing to offer anymore. Life had given them its last few tastes and left, without even giving notice, and they were suddenly left empty and wanting, lost without an idea of where to go.

how naive they had been, to believe that the love and joy that living provided would last forever. 

because they’d learned their lessons, over and over, and learned them well. That good things do not last, that some scars cut deep enough to last forever, that people are cruel and cold and not to be trusted.

they supposed it was only fair. They wouldn’t trust themself, either. Who did they expect to pay them anything other than the bare minimum? At the end of the day, everyone who they crossed paths with was just another human, with their own complex life with complex feelings and complex goals. There was no time left over in anyone’s soul for them. There was no place in anyone’s mind that they lay, content and well thought after. 

they no longer had the ability to see the wonder of the world through a curious child’s eyes. Only though the eye of someone who’d seen too much of the worst that humanity had to offer. And too much of it, ironically enough, was brought by their own hands.

their first taste of injustice had been brutal and swift. Far from home, eager to learn and see what the galaxy had to be offer. Eager to place their tenderness into greedy and crushing hands who would take, and take, and take. Hands that strayed where they had no right to be, pushing and pulling and cracking open the space between their ribs to be bore out to the cold and cruel air. Exposed, dirty, wrong, filthy. Battering their body, their sense of self, and leaving them to pick of the pieces. 

It was nothing they didn’t walk into, willing to trust and hope and learning that there was no place anymore for childlike curiosity and innocent hope. People were cruel, and they’d take whatever you gave. They learned the hard way what happened when you gave too much.

And who was there to seek help from? Too many eyes, willing to look the other way. Too many backs that turned too quickly when the possibility of justice was mentioned. 

It was simple: nobody cared to stir their own life for the sake of another. The snake caught the rat, the hawk caught the snake. It was just the way nature worked. Nobody was going to interfere, nobody was going to berate the snake for taking advance of an innocent mouse. And the hawk wouldn’t swoop down upon snake for the sake of the mouse, either— but only for the sake of its own hunger. 

maybe that’s when it began, the slow and steady decent to where they are now. Currently, they were uncertain how many days had passed, the curtains were thick and heavy to keep away any prying eyes, but in turn also blocked out any light. They did not mind. It hurt their eyes, and made their tired body feel like they had to move, despite aching muscles and aching souls, and do something with themself.

but they were content to lay here, in this soft shield of blankets and pillows, for as long as they desired. They knew there were no hands that would come to knock at the door, nobody curious of what they were doing, nobody hoping to catch a glimpse of them in the outside world. 

Even if they were, they were looking for the mask and the armor, not the tired body confined within. 

Not to any fault but their own, though. Ever since they joined Apex, they made sure distance was kept. Intimidation was a language that they spoke well— and it made such a lovely hiding space.

the other legends were happy souls with bright spirits, eager to approach the next day with gusto and sparkling eyes, still willing to see what other excitement the world had to offer. They were close to one another— building friendships that ran so much deeper than a simple co-worker. They could see it in the way Octane and Mirage joked with one another, achieving a level of comfort and rhythm that only aligned souls could. The way they bantered with Wraith who, with even all her troubles and struggles, found a way to open herself up to the idea of friendship. The way Lifeline and Wattson would chatter on the dropship about plans set for after the game was over, Bangalore chiming in with teasing tones over who was going to win and who was going to loose. They never felt more like an outsider then in these moments. Watching everyone be so... human around them. In a way nobody could believe they could be as well. 

They were pretty sure, at this rate, they knew they couldn’t, either.

Bloth felt like they knew too much more about the cycle of life and pain then they were supposed to— like their soul had aged so much farther than their body. That they were already at the mindset of an elder... content that their time was near, tired of continuing the strain, ready to return to the dirt and let the earth consume them, use their rotten flesh and turn their matter into something with a purpose. 

What was there left for them? Once they left the excitement of the ring, once they left the thrall of fans and cheers and interviews? Nothing, is what. There was nothing to come home to and take the mask off for. There was nothing to see their tired body and soothe their aching muscles and mend the broken parts that had nestled deep into their bones.

Sometimes, in the spur of a moment, they wondered what would happen if the respawn system broke, during a game. They wondered what would happen if they really did have to face death, if there was no blinding light taking them instantly to the transport for medical care, or a sudden inexplicable shortage of medkits. They wondered what would happen if the game suddenly became serious, became real, and they were gone, too quickly to realize something serious had even happened. 

Because if they really were, oh so mysteriously, to disappear, there would be nobody to chase after them. Only a handful of headlines in the tabloids, some angry gamblers spewing spittle over the loss of their most reliant bet, and then their existence would close without much more than a whisper.

So often, their mind would spiral, that they felt they spent more time struggling to keep them from falling so low then actually thinking of anything good. A hopeless pit that seemed so empty and bottomless and barren, and the light at the top was turning into nothing more but a distant star.

They curled further in on themself. It was warm and soft here, nestled in their blankets, and it felt like the only place that was safe. Hidden under cotton so thick, it almost suffocated them. They supposed they would not mind if it did. 

It was cliche, they thought idly, eyes dry and tacky from staring openly at nothing for so long, body sore from being stuck in their cuccoon, that in these weak moments they longed for someone. They used to like it when their mother braided their hair. They used to like it, in their short exciting experiment outside in the world, when friends would hold their hand as they wandered new places. There was just a certain level of comfort that warm skin brought, bare on one another— no matter platonic, or romantic, or lustful in nature. Humans were social creatures, and communication was shared more with expression and touch than it was with words. 

But they had made sure to cut themself off. Through thick layers of gear, through their helm. Keep themself away, keep themself separate, slowly starve from lack of any real connection to another living being. At first they had seen it as a way to protect themself— safety in the anonymity, safety from being hurt like that again. 

But laying here, so alone and so empty— an unwanted body, a wasted soul— they felt maybe it was their distance that had ended up scarring them deeper than any foul hand ever had. 

And now they had achieved their goal. There was nobody within arms reach, and there hadn’t been in years... not counting that night of utter horrid desperation, so frenzied at the idea of touch and intimacy that they surrounded themself in the anonymity of a bar, allowing themself to be taken home after way too many drinks to hungrily devour another mouth, another body. It had felt like fire in the moment, but the coals were weak and smoldered into ash within seconds after it was all over, and in some cruel twist they felt even emptier and more distant then they had before. 

There was not a soul who knew them. There was not a mind that thought of them. There was not a heart that felt out for them. It was pitiful, to spend your whole life building walls, only to realize you’d built nothing but your own coffin.

They hated who they were. They hated the mask and they hated the intimidation, but there was nobody who didn’t fear them, nobody who was even curious to try and see the person behind frosted glass lenses and heavy leather gloves. 

What they wouldn’t give, just to feel loved for a moment. 

A rustling of feathers, a heavy croak. They shifted, wild tangle of red hair (when was the last time they had brushed it? Or even worse— washed it?) peering out from their cover under the blankets. 

Arthur croaked once more, rustling her silky feathers, watching them with her steady gaze. Their heart felt thick in their throat. She had already been fed, and the window was cracked just enough for her to go fly, if she had wished. 

But instead she was here, in the unpleasant den of Bloth’s room, crooning at them from her little perch. With a stretch of powerful wings and whirl of air, she was settled at their bedpost, settling herself in a comfortable position to sit and stay. To keep her only and trusted companion company. 

They stared at her, tracing every detail of every inky feather. Her presence soothed something deep inside of them, and they burrowed back under the blankets. The motion seemed to exhaust them, despite their powerful muscles and unparalleled endurance in the ring. 

It wasn’t what they desperately needed, but she was enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my friend who has the hc that Arthur is a lovely lady bird and hound doesn’t give a fuck about what gender a name is supposed to be. It’s stuck with me and now I can’t imagine her any other way .


End file.
